Paint The Old Fence White
by Passing girl
Summary: OS. this is a Vegeta do'er. get inside his thoughts while he lounges in the livingroom, and see how much it changes him. very good i think so please read and review! that would be awsome of you!


A/N: this is a one shot yes. But it is good, and hopefully interesting. This done in Vegeta's POV, so don't get confused! I am just a lonesome writer that only writes fanfics cause they are  
for some odd reason very fun, no matter how dorky! So don't sue me! Please review and tell me what you think.  
  
An Old Fence Painted White  
  
I tugged harshly at the back of my shirt, it had been pulling at my neck for three lousy hours, sitting on this damned chair. Sitting in this hell provoked room, staring at a black TV with glares from outside, showing me the back porch and Mrs. Brief suntanning; eating biscotti. She couldn't care less about her freakin calories or maintaining 'national' foods.  
  
I feel another irritation, a fly is on my hand.  
  
Why do such pointless pests survive?  
  
I swat at it, missing it. That makes me even more irritated.  
  
Dammit all.  
  
My eyes then shift to the kitchen, I can hardly see in.  
  
Why do people have to make walls?  
  
A grunt escapes my closed lips and nose. I finally decide to stand on my feet and stop my lifeless stares. Making my way to the kitchen I gaze about. Not a person in view, my eyes shift to a ticking clock, hanging above the stove.  
  
What a stupid place to stick a clock.  
  
Its one fifteen. Only one fifteen? Damn.  
  
I take my miserably bored self back to the living room, plopping back down on the lazyboy, finding myself wrapped back up in the familiar feeling and sights, after all I have been sitting there for a good half-hour. A sigh huffed from my cracked lips, my head rolled back and laid against the back of the chair, my eyes slit shut.  
  
How old am I know? Fifty? Fifty-three? Fifty-five? Good guess I reckon, I have lived on this planet three times longer then living on Vegeta-sei. I haven't aged a day, only grown more sober, hardly wise, I have only held knowledge. And this I shall stay, when I am one hundred I will look thirty, I don't recall my looks ever looking awfully yong, I am pretty gruff looking. My eyes look downward at my lounging body. My body looks as fit as a twenty year old.  
  
This made me smile.  
  
When that old woman of mine dies, I could go find myself a twenty year old beauty.  
  
The thought didn't really mesmerize me, women were just a nuisance, it was just an amusing idea.  
  
I inch my body lower and deeper into the chair, I feel tired. Pushing my frown away and replacing it with much satisfied factor, no one is around, so where is the harm in that. No one is around to see me. To see me smile softly, with closed peaceful eyes, I have nothing to hide when I am alone in a familiar room. There is nothing to be scared of, showing a soft side of a rock relaxing on something it would always curse.  
  
I wear a mask. Though only recently have I gotten it, up until after buu I felt a need to be able to enjoy life, but I kept it away with the pride from my youth. Not letting it slip by.  
  
I always hated this chair; it was comfortable. Tempting me to sit and relax in it, leaving me to sit in while I should be training. Falling to petty desires.  
  
But now, now I am able to enjoy it, not worried if people are watching me fall into pleasure with this damned chair.  
  
I laugh.  
  
I laughed? At this thought? A pleasurable laugh at a pleasurable thought.  
  
I laugh more, enjoying my freedom of a free laugh. A joyful laugh, presented at the highest hope of truth.  
  
I feel like I lifted my hand and removed my mask, clinching it in my hand while I smile brighter. My eyes closed with my face upturned, smiling as wide as ever, as if I were praising the heavens. I feel a tingle in my cheeks from smiling so bright, I have never felt that before, I have never smiled like this before. I let it loosen, yet I still smile lightly.  
  
A soft smile upon my face when suddenly I feel a press on my knee, my eyes shot open and my smile vanished, a looked downward to my knees to see Bra, five I think she is, her bright blue hair in small pigtails. Her eyes filled with enterprise, a large smile on her rose cheeks. I search her over, not able to comprehend why she retreats at me in such a joyful fashion without any of her learning words. When suddenly my eyes come upon her out reached hand holding a small dandy lion.  
  
I hate dandy lions.  
  
"Look daddy! A frower! I got it for you"  
  
I feel irritated once again. I reluctantly lifted my hand and gently took the flower from her fingers, a frown on my face, but she doesn't noticed it, she is too overwhelmed with excitement thinking I am flabbergasted. I look at the flower with light disgust then let my eyes tilt back at Bra; smiling fully.  
  
I held the flower up so that I could look at my odd, cheerful daughter, I still had a slight frown on my face.  
  
"Bra, this isn't a flower it's a wee......" (Weed)  
  
I couldn't finish my sentence, I paused right there looking at 'my' daughter full of happiness, giving me a weed....ok a 'flower'. Always showing me such love and excitement, giving small insignificant gifts, yet to her, giving me the world. What had she ever done to me to receive such coldness? And yet, through the midst of it, she never gave me a frown, she gave me....a smile. Giving me small gifts of appreciation in my pocket.  
  
I have never took any admiration in Bra, I even forget she existed, to me she was simply another, well, 'mistake' though Bulma always protested she intended for Bra to come along.  
  
I gave Bra smile, yeah you know the one, as fake as it may have been, behind it was not anger or irritation....but pain.  
  
"Thank you....."  
  
'What's your name again?  
  
"...Bra."  
  
Bra smiled even larger and leaped upon me, hugging me as tight as she could around the neck, giving me a small kiss on the cheek, I hadn't hugged her back, my arms just held up in surprise, not knowing rather to touch my daughter. Yet slowly I let them clasp around her, embracing her small body against mine.  
  
That was the first time I ever hugged my daughter.  
  
I then felt her body release from mine as she climbed down from my lap onto then floor, she frolicked off, I watched her without a smile. Yet she then stopped and turned to me, a smile still on her face.  
  
"You have a pretty smile daddy."  
  
She then disappeared.  
  
She had seen me smile when she came into the room.  
  
She left a crooked smile on my face, it was a 'real' smile, I then looked down at my lap still with a crooked grin, I then let my shoulders slide down and my head sink back, my eyes closed shut and I smiled. Letting my mask fall out of my hand.  
  
I never touched it again.  
  
A/N: so what did you think? Cute, and with a pretty profound stance. If you didn't full understand it just ask me, maybe I can explain it, though, it one of those stories that you should be able to leave you with a good clue. (Kinda like a poem) well please review and tell me your thoughts! Take care! And please read my other stories! 


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